Within These Walls
by Kb215
Summary: Downton Abbey Season 3, about three months after Season 2 leaves off. It starts with a lot of Mary, Matthew and Anna surrounding the imprisonment of John Bates. I'm hoping to add in Sybil, Branson, Edith, Carson, and Mrs. Hughes later. A little bit of every character. Downton is not mine, it belongs to Julian Fellowes and ITV. K for now.
1. Chapter 1

The brisk English air sent chills through Anna's petite frame, but she didn't seem to mind. The cold reminded her that she wasn't numb anymore as she had been for the first months of her husband's imprisonment. She pulled the collar of her coat closer to her neck and ducked her head to brace the wind as she tried her hardest not to kick up any dirt on her newly polished shoes. Even though the entire staff and house had taken an unspoken pity about her, Mr. Carson would still not stand for sloppy appearances.

She took a deep breath and let the smells of newly burning embers escaping from the approaching house fill her lungs. She had thought of leaving Downton once upon a time, and although there was always the pain of Mr. Bate's absence in the house, she simply couldn't leave. Not when she still held onto the hope that her husband would be home soon. _Anyway, _she thought, _today will be different. _Her usual routine which consisted of tending to Lady Edith's needs would be happily increased as Lady Mary and Mr. Crawley were scheduled to arrive on the 11 o'clock train from York. Mr. Crawley had taken on her husband's case, working with Lord Grantham's lawyer, trying everything in his power to prove John's innocence, and in doing so, had moved to Grantham to be closer. Anna had thoughts to go with them, to continue to be with Lady Mary and closer to her husband; however, she remained here, where she knew John would want her. But a visit from Lady Mary and Mr. Crawley would certainly mean a letter from John, and that was enough, she thought, to get her through today.

Mary sat in the car, stone-faced, as she stared out the window, but even in her inexpressive states, Matthew had learned to read her thoughts.

"You're afraid Anna won't be pleased," Matthew said as the car continued to wind down the familiar paths that led to home.

The way he said it wasn't a question, and Matthew didn't intend it to be one. It was in these moments that Mary loved him even more. The way he was able to say exactly what was on her mind reminded her why they would be married.

"I think it's important that we keep her hopes up," she replied, intentionally not answering Matthew's question.

"We are going to win this case," he said. "John Bates is an innocent man. He'll be home by June."

"Then why can't we tell Anna that?" Mary asked stubbornly even though Matthew had explained it multiple times.

He took her hands in his, bringing one delicately to his lips. "Trust me," he said.

Mary sighed. "I've no option but to trust you! I just wish you'd let me know what this breakthrough you've found is."

"I know you do, love," Matthew said exasperated at his fiancé's persistence. "And I will tell you, when the time is right, but telling you sooner would be risking the stability of this case."

Mary turned back to the window. Normally, Matthew would have broken down by now, but this time Mary's stubbornness was being equally matched by his. This conversation had been routine since Matthew came to Cousin Isobel's house straight from work three weeks ago. "We've got it!" he had called through the house until Mary emerged from her room.

"Got what?" she asked, afraid that perhaps the stress of work had finally gotten the better of him.

"John Bate's innocence," he had said proudly and pulled her in for a kiss right in front of his mother.

Even in her stubbornness, the memory of Cousin Isobel's face after the kiss had been enough to make Mary smile.

"Are you excited to see Lady Edith?" he asked after letting her sulk for a moment.

"I suppose," she replied. After spending three months living with Cousin Isobel, she suspected she would be excited to see just about anyone. Her relationship with her sister had come a long way from where it once had been. She could more than tolerate Edith now, and sometimes she even longed for her presence. Yes, distance had been good for their relationship.

Matthew nodded silently and looked out across the field. He could just see the top of Downton above the towering trees of the estate, and was overcome with the same feeling of responsibility and pride every time he saw the great home. One day, this would be his.

_No_, he corrected himself_, it will be more than mine. It will be ours_. And that thought was enough to overcome any obstacles that stood before him.

The car bounced along the gravel drive that led to the front of the house, and Mary could make out the committee sent to welcome the couple back home. The car stopped, and Matthew hurried out so he could open her door.

"Ready?" Matthew whispered with a mischievous smile on his face as he opened the door.

"As long as you're here," she replied and gave him her hand to steady her descent from the car.

She wrapped her arm through his and together they emerged from behind the car to be greeted by the smiles of Mr. Carson, Anna, Thomas, and her mama and papa.

"Oh Mary," Cora Crawley cooed as she hugged her daughter. She was glad to hear her daughter was returning home for a spell. The house had seemed terribly empty since two of her daughters had left. That, she supposed, was just part of growing old. "You look lovely."

"Of course she does, Cora," Robert replied proudly. "Matthew I trust you're taking care of my daughter."

"Of course, Milord," Matthew responded earnestly as he shook Robert's hand.

"Milady," Mr. Carson said as he bowed his head to Mary. Mary giggled like a child at Mr. Carson's nonsense.

"Stop that foolishness, Mr. Carson," she teased, "Or I shall have you thrown out."

"I'm glad you'll be enjoying Downton once again," he said, returning to his normal state of professionalism.

"It's good to be here," she said honestly. She turned to Anna whose gazed was still focused straight ahead.

"Oh, Anna," Mary said taking Anna's hands in hers.

"Milady," Anna smiled. "Please tell me you've come with good news."

"We have," Mary replied, although because of Matthew's secrecy she couldn't be quite certain what it was it. "We need to talk at once."

"Yes, we do," Matthew agreed. "Cousin Robert, I think you and Cousin Cora should join us."

"Of course," Robert replied. "Carson, will you arrange the library for us?"

"Right away, Milord."

Anna's heart started racing. There was hope, she could feel it. Although, she couldn't be too certain how much longer it would hold out.

"Have you seen him recently, Mr. Crawley?" Anna asked Matthew when they were all seated in the library.

Matthew had, just two days ago. "He's doing quiet well, considering his circumstances," Matthew answered, hoping that his slight exaggeration of John Bate's conditions would put Anna at ease. "He asked that I give you this."

Matthew produced an envelope and handed it to Anna. She smiled at her name scrawled in John's slanted writing. These letters were the closest they came to touching these days. When she read them, she could almost feel his arms around her and hear his voice reading the words he wrote. She clutched the letter in her hands and took a deep breath._ Let's get on with it, _she thought. "What news have you brought?" she asked.

"Yes, Matthew," Robert added. "What's the latest?"

Matthew sat up a little straighter. "We've had someone come forward with a tip," he said.

"A tip?" Robert asked.

"Yes," Matthew continued. "A lead that we have been investigating now for three weeks and have come to find very reliable."

"Well what kind of lead is it?" Cora asked.

Anna sat silently listening, clinging to Matthew's words and wringing them of the hope they held. Was it possible they were really onto something?

"I can't say," Matthew said. "Not right now at least."

Mary sighed. She had hoped that he would share his secret here in Anna's presence, but to her dismay he continued to be persistent.

"I don't understand," Anna said. "You've got a lead but cannot tell us what it entails. How are we to trust its success as you so have claimed?"

Matthew exhaled. He knew that this question would be posed, and he had no other answer for Anna but to trust him. "Trust me, Anna," he answered her. "We just have to wait for the right time. We want to leave no stone unturned."

"Does John know?" Anna asked.

Matthew shook his head yes, again slightly exaggerating the truth of the situation. Mr. Bates knew that Matthew had been given a lead on a suspect of his wife's murder, but he didn't know who that suspect was.

"Well, then," Anna said. "If my husband trusts you, then I have no choice but to as well."

**Thanks to everyone who is following this story! This is my first time doing something like this, so any and all feedback would be welcomed. I reloaded this chapter because I found a few mistakes and tried to correct some inconsistencies. **


	2. Chapter 2

_I know I said that the story would start Matthew, Mary, and Anna; however, I decided to go ahead and add an Edith chapter in the mix. This explains where she was when Mary and Matthew arrived. I hope you enjoy it!_

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Edith stood in the entrance hall nervously pulling at her dress. She would do this; she had to do this. She often looked up to the determination of her sisters-Sybil's bravery and confidence in leaving Downton for what some would classify as a lesser life, and Mary's stubbornness in pursuing her desires.

_Well, _she thought, _I can be stubborn too._

She could hear the sound of approaching footsteps, and quickly, she took a deep breath and let her hands drop to her sides. _Don't look so defeated, _her Grandmama had told her once.

"Lady Edith," Sir Antony greeted her. "What a pleasant surprise."

"Sir Antony," she smiled, "I hope I haven't inconvenienced you."

"Not at all," he replied, matching her smile. "Would you like to come and sit down?"

Lady Edith nodded and followed Antony into the library where he usually took his afternoon tea. _How long had it been since she was here with him last? Three months,_ she counted. Three months of hoping and longing for his companionship. Three months of sitting alone while the world around her continued to be partnered off and married like some sort of machine.

If she was being honest, she would admit that her love for Sir Antony rested in two parts: one part of her truly did love him, his kind and gentle nature, the way his hair seemed to fall to one side, and how he smiled with those bright blue eyes. The other part was that at this time in her life, she did not really have any other options, no men bidding for her attention, and as she became desperately aware of her single state, it hastened any and all love she felt for this man.

"How are things at Downton?" Sir Antony asked. He tried to force the corners of his mouth down from their smile, but it was no use. He was glad Edith had come to visit; he had missed her in the months past.

"Rather empty," Edith sighed. "Sybil and Tom are in Dublin, and Mary and Matthew have moved to York for Mr. Bate's case."

"I suppose it's rather lonely for you," he replied, not being able to look away from her gorgeous eyes.

"At times," she replied politely, but what she would have liked to have said was "Every moment of everyday." Lady Edith couldn't help but notice his lame arm resting in its sling.

"How is your arm?" she asked.

"Oh, still useless," he replied.

"And the pain? Has it subsided?" she asked him again.

"Mostly," he answered. "However, I've been having some awful pains in my neck due to this sling."

Lady Edith had expected this much. She had seen it at Downton when the house had acted as a rehabilitation home.

"May I try something?" she asked.

"Well, I suppose," Antony agreed, not very sure about just what it was she was trying.

Edith hesitantly stood and walked closer to him. "Sometimes," she said. "You can adjust the strap over the shoulder to relieve the pressure on the neck."

She carefully sat down beside him and began adjusting the strap. She tried very hard to focus on her work and not on the closer proximity between her and Antony.

Antony did the same. He closed his eyes and reminded himself of their age difference and the life she would be giving up should she marry him. If he was being honest, he would say that he had fallen in love with Edith at first sight. She had captured him with her beauty, wit, and loyalty. But his love was limited by the fear that with his new condition and age, he would ruin the life that lay before this woman. When he looked at her, he could the see the greatness that rested in her, and he worried that taking her as his wife would dissipate that greatness and leave her resentful at what she had missed. However, this physical closeness, the way her fingers brushed his shoulder as they worked, the way he could feel her breath on his neck, well, they were enough to chip away at any resolve he had spent the past three months building.

"There," she smiled. "Does that feel better?"

"Much," he answered honestly, and it was all he could do to keep himself from kissing her, right then and there.

"I've not yet given up on you, Antony," she said quietly, holding his gaze in hers. "I won't ever."

"Edith," he tried to interrupt, but she was set in her determination.

"No," she said, stopping him. "If Sybil can marry the chauffeur and run away to Ireland, and Mary watch as her secrets are told for all the world to hear, then surely I can sit here and tell you that I love you, and that I'll not be written off because you're afraid you'll take the world from me."

Antony sat a little stunned. _Where was this new resolve coming from?_ he wondered. _Had she really just declared her love for him?_ He couldn't very well think straight, his heart was pounding in his ears and his palms sweaty. It seemed the only thing he could focus on were Edith's lips, thin and fragile, and longing to be kissed.

"Edith," he tried again, but she wouldn't have it. _I suppose_, he thought, _that stubbornness is a quality inherited by all Crawley women._

"You called me lovely once," she continued. "I'll not give up on that."

"I'd call you lovely again," he answered her before he knew what he was saying. "You are lovely, always."

"Then tell me, Antony, why do you avoid me like I'm some curse to be brought down on your house?"

Antony couldn't answer her, not the way she wanted to be answered at least. He knew that he loved her, this red-faced woman who refused to give up on him. But he also knew that in certain circumstances loving someone meant setting them free. It would be a selfish love to keep Edith to himself when she could do so much better. _But perhaps, _he thought, _perhaps, I deserve a selfish love._

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**Thank you again for reading! All comments and suggestions are welcomed. I'm hoping to have a third chapter up soon. **


	3. Chapter 3

**We're back to Anna and Mary. I love the friendship between the two. We'll soon discover just what Matthew's big lead is, and hopefully, welcome Sybil and Tom back home soon. Thanks for reading! **

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"Mrs. Hughes said you needed me, Milady," Anna said as she walked into Lady Mary's room. Lady Mary was sitting at her vanity, working to take down the pins that kept her hair in place

"I did, Anna," Mary said turning around, "but only to talk. I wanted to see how you were fairing."

"Would you like some help?" Anna asked her as she stepped over to the mirror. Before Lady Mary could answer, Anna was already working to release the pins letting Mary's dark hair fall in thick curls down her back.

"Thank you, Anna. Now, how are you holding up?"

Anna focused on her work, she didn't care to think of how _she_ was doing. "I'm as good as can be expected, Milady," she replied purposefully not meeting Mary's gaze in the mirror.

Mary studied Anna in the mirror while she worked. Her eyes were sullen with dark circles underneath suggesting that sleep was something that came neither regularly nor for extended periods of time. Her already petite frame looked sunken, her shoulders slouching forward like they had been carrying a weight far too heavy for far too long.

"Anna," Mary said turning around so that Anna was forced to look her in the eyes. "How are you really doing?"

Anna had refused to break in presence of others. Mrs. Hughes, Lord Grantham, Mr. Carson, and even Lady Edith had prodded to find how Anna was truly managing, but she remained strong in front of them. When she was alone was quite a different story. She prayed for her husband constantly, begging that he be safe and sent home soon.

It seems she should have run out of tears by now, but they still came almost daily. At night, she would often lie in her bed for hours, clutching the letters her husband had sent her, rereading the words he had written, running her fingers over the paper he had touch. It was really all she had left of her husband for now, paper that they both had shared in different places at different times.

On nights when sleep did visit her, she counted it as a blessing and a curse. A blessing because it was a few hours when the pitying stares of others couldn't reach her, but a curse because she often dreamt of John and those dreams would leave her realizing just how absent he was to her now. That emptiness created a void inside her that she wasn't sure would ever refill.

Months of composure had left her tired and worn, and so when Mary, her confidant and friend, had asked how she was truly doing, Anna had no choice to but tell her the truth. "Not so well, Milady," Anna whispered, hoping she could hold her tears at bay.

"Oh, Anna," Mary said as she led her maid to the bed. "I can't imagine how hard this has been on you."

"Not me, Milady," Anna answered, wiping the tears from her cheek. She remembered the way that John would take his calloused thumb and carefully wipe the sadness from her face. "It's John I worry about. It's just not fair he be put through this. He's an innocent man."

"I know Anna," Mary said holding onto Anna's hands. "We're going to prove that innocence, and he'll be back at Downton before you know it."

"I want to believe you and Mr. Crawley," Anna said. "I truly do, but it's difficult."

"I know," Mary said. "But you have to trust Matthew. He's found something to help Mr. Bates. We only have to wait now."

Anna sighed. She had been waiting for years now- waiting for John to confess his love for her, waiting for Vera to agree to divorce him so they could be together, waiting to be married, and now waiting for her husband to be released from a life imprisonment. _But,_ she reminded herself, _John was always worth the wait. _"Has he told you anything about this lead?" Anna asked, hopeful that Mary would be able to shed more light on the findings and relieve some of Anna's worries.

"No," Mary shook her head. "I've been trying for weeks to get him to tell me something. He's being stubborn."

Anna nodded, realizing it was going to take more blind faith to continue on in hope.

"He believes in it highly, though," Mary told her. "Enough so that he wants to keep it secret so that no information is leaked."

"But I wouldn't leak any information, Milady," Anna said. "I only need more hope to hold onto."

"We know you wouldn't, Anna," Mary answered kindly. She hated that she couldn't give her friend more reassurance or answers. "We just have to hold on, just a little bit longer."

Anna nodded, thankful Lady Mary was home for a while. "How are the wedding plans developing?" She asked her, wanting to think of something other than John for a few minutes.

"They're going well," Mary answered, trying to contain her enthusiasm.

"Have you planned a date yet?"

"No," Mary answered. "Not yet. We're going to wait until Mr. Bates is released. Then we'll decide when the wedding will take place."

Matthew and Mary discussed the date for their wedding almost immediately after arriving in York. Both agreed to wait until John Bates was released from prison. It didn't seem far to have such a celebration without everyone in the house present, and with Matthew working so much on his case, well it wasn't the way they wanted their marriage to begin.

"Milady," Anna protested. "There's no need for that."

"It's already been decided," Mary answered stubbornly.

"Yes, but it could take years," Anna answered. "Or, never happen at all." The thought crushed Anna and she quickly worked to push it to the back of her mind. She couldn't think like that. John needed her to be hopeful.

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," Mary said. "But let's pray we don't have to."

...

Anna sat on the edge of her bed clutching her new letter from John. The letter had burned in her hands all the way back from the house, and almost as soon as she opened the door to the tiny cottage, she carefully ripped back the envelope and read what her husband had written her.

He mostly wrote of home and missing Downton. His letters gave little away as to his conditions or how he was truly fairing and instead focused on Anna asking her how she was doing, declaring his love to her, telling Anna he missed her.

"Matthew has a new lead," he wrote. "He's confident it will prove my innocence, and that I'll be home soon. We must trust him, Anna. He's working so hard to help me. I feel we owe him our trust even when our situation looks fleeting. And when I return home, I will absolutely never let you out of my arms again."

Anna let a tear roll her cheek and splash onto the paper. It was hard at times to be in the cottage alone without John here, as it was intended as a wedding gift from Lord and Lady Grantham, but her ability to let her emotions flow freely without fear of who was watching made up for the destitution. She didn't have to pretend to be strong here.

She took his stack of letters from her bedside table and added to this one to the pile. She thumbed through the worn papers and wondered how many more letters they would have to write before they could speak to each other freely once again. Some of the letters were longer than others, some would arrive days apart with only the words "I love you" scrawled across the page. But all of them made Anna hold onto to the hope that there would be a morning when she would wake up and see the man that she loved sleeping soundly beside her. Yes, there would be a day when all of this would be remembered as nothing but a bad dream. She only hoped they should both wake up soon.

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**Thanks for reading! All comments and suggestions are more than welcomed. **


	4. Chapter 4

**I know I said Matthew's reveal was coming, and it is, but I had an idea for an Edith scene, and I couldn't resist.**

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Edith frowned as she threw yet another dress on her bed.

_This is useless, _she thought. _It'll make no difference what I wear. He'll still only see me as a child. _

Frustrated, and at a loss, she decided to go to Mary for help. At one time, she would have been too proud to go to her older sister, too afraid of what Mary would choose to use against her, but there relationship had taken a pleasant turn. She now believed Mary would understand, and more than that, help her.

"Come in," Mary called when Edith knocked on her door.

"I hope I'm not interrupting," Edith said when she saw that Mary was seated at the vanity with Anna styling her hair.

"Not at all," Mary replied. "We were just trying to narrow down some hair styles for the wedding."

"Ah," Edith said. She was happy for her sister and Cousin Matthew, she really was, but she also felt that if she heard one more thing about a wedding, she might erupt. "Well, I was wondering if you might be able to spare a moment to help me."

"Certainly," Mary answered. "And with what am I to assist you with?"

"I'm to go driving with Sir Antony this afternoon, and I haven't anything to wear," Edith tried to say it as bravely as she could; however, she could feel her face begin to blush.

"Ah," Mary smiled, quite proud of her younger sister for being as bold as she was with Antony Stallion. "What you really mean is that you haven't anything appropriate enough to woo your beau."

Edith was fully blushing now, as well as Anna who was still watching the unfolding events from behind Lady Mary. She was glad to have the two sisters back again.

"Won't you help me?" Edith pleaded.

"I gave you my word," Mary said as she stood from her seat and put her arm through Edith's. "You'd better come too, Anna," Mary smiled. "We may need your opinion."

Anna nodded and followed the sisters down the hallway back to Edith's room.

"Oh dear," Mary said when she saw the disaster that was Edith's room.

"I'm sorry," Edith apologized. "I promise I'll clean it, Anna."

"There's no need, Milady," Anna replied, rather grateful for the extra chore. It would help pass that dreaded down time between the servant's dinner and when Lady Mary rang to be readied for bed.

Mary was already shifting through the clothes on Edith's bed, making new piles of her own.

"Try this one," Mary told Edith as she handed her a dull pink dress with a high waste.

Edith had her doubts, but obeyed Mary's command letting Anna help her out of her gown and into the pink dress.

"Oh," Mary said. "No, that won't work." She moved over the closet and began sorting through the dresses there.

"Those aren't driving dresses," Edith tried to inform her.

Mary smiled mischievously at her sister. She still had so much to learn about wooing men. "That, my dear sister," she said as she turned around to meet Edith's gaze, "is the point."

. . . . .

Antony paced back and froth in his library as he waited for his butler to inform him that Lady Edith had arrived. She said she would be here at 3 o'clock, and it was now nearly a quarter past.

He hoped she hadn't been injured on her way here. The roads were known to be troublesome this time of year.

_No, _he thought, _I'm just overreacting. She'll be here soon, she's just running behind._

On her last visit, Edith had loosened any resolve Antony had made to stay away from her. He enjoyed her company, and as much as he believed he should say no when she asked if he would like to go for a drive with her, something in him told him to say yes. So he did, and now he was pacing in his library like some love-struck boy.

"Milord," his butler said as he entered the room. "Lady Edith has arrived."

Edith again stood in the entrance hall of Sir Antony's house, this time a little more aware of her intentions a little more self conscious of her appearance.

She didn't look like a child; Edith had to give Mary credit for that. Although she wasn't sure how she was ever going to manage driving in these shoes! It took nearly twice as long to travel here as normal. Her retched heels kept catching on the pedals.

"Lady Edith," Sir Antony said as he entered the hall and then stopped as her beauty took him aback. She was more than lovely this afternoon; she was beautiful. Her sleeveless hunter green dress reaching nearly to her toes with a ribbon tying around her waste. She moved her shawl self-consciously around her shoulders. "You look, you look…wow," Antony stuttered. "You look stunning." He finally managed.

Edith mentally thanked Mary for her choice of outfit. Driving might be hard to manage, but this was precisely the reaction she was hoping to receive.

"Shall we go?" Edith asked, hoping that the shakiness of her voice wasn't that noticeable.

"Yes," Antony said, realizing that it was going to be harder to stand by his resolve than he thought. He had agreed to go driving with Edith, he had told himself they would remain on as friends and nothing more. He had every intention of explaining that philosophy to Edith today, but the way she gently wrapped her arm in his, the way she smiled when he walked in a room. Well, it was enough to make him think of a life with her again.

"I assure you, I'm not as skilled a driver as you, but I hope you might be able to give me some pointers," Edith said as she climbed into the driver's seat.

Antony worked to pull himself into the passenger seat, and once he was in, Edith started the engine.

Antony hadn't braced himself for Edith's led foot, and was forced back as she took off down the dirt road leading past his house.

"Sorry," Edith called over the roar of the engine. "I'm afraid I'm still adjusting to driving in these shoes!"

"It's quite alright," Antony replied. "It's been away since I've had this much adventure."

Edith had always loved driving with Antony. She enjoyed watching his concentration on the road, the way he would scrunch his eyebrows together in concentration, or the way his hair would get caught in the wind.

In the same regard, Antony loved driving Edith. He loved her carefree laugh as they raced through the countryside, and the way she would pretend to worry as they approached turns or hills. He loved the way she would grab his arm to steady herself on a bumpy road, or the way he would catch her watching him.

However, this was a reversal of roles. Not that it was particularly bad, just different, with both parties finding new things to love. Edith was particularly found of the way Antony would reach over with his good arm and help guide the wheel, sometimes allowing his hand to graze hers. And Antony was particularly found of the way Edith would sometimes mumble to herself as she drove along.

They drove along silently, enjoying each other's company. Edith rather enjoyed the time to think. Her intentions, her plans, had been to ask Sir Antony straightaway why he hadn't proposed to her all those years ago. But as she drove, she realized that perhaps it would be best to let that rest for a while. She decided that bullying Sir Antony into a relationship wasn't who she was, nor was it who she desired to be.

_No, _she thought, _I'm going to do this correctly._

And so when she pulled up to the front of Sir Antony's house nearly two hours later, all that could mark the silent passing of miles they traveled was their secret preoccupations with the other.

"You're a skilled driver," Antony said as he climbed from the car.

"Thank you," Edith answered earnestly. "I think once we got past that bit at the beginning, it went quite smoothly." Edith felt silly standing before him in the too fancy evening gown, and she felt even sillier letting Mary talk to her into wearing these shoes.

Antony took a deep breath of the fresh English air. He had been debating with himself since the moment Edith arrived at his door. He thought that letting Edith go had been selfless. He truly did believe that he wasn't worthy of her desire or affection. But lately, he'd been wondering if perhaps it wasn't a selfish desire to withhold what would make her happy. A notion he still couldn't fully understand-_How could someone like me be worthy of her love? _

"I do hope you'll have safe travels back to Downton," he told her. "Please send my regards to the Lord Grantham."

Edith smiled kindly, hoping that any signs of disappointment were well hidden from her face. "I will, certainly." And with that she turned to leave. _No, it wouldn't be today_, she thought._ But I won't give up on him. _

"Lady Edith," Antony called when she almost back to the vehicle. He wasn't positive what he was doing. Hadn't he resolved to remain her friend and nothing more?

Edith turned around again to look Antony in the eyes.

"I was wondering if perhaps, you'd like to go for another drive next week. Maybe you could stay for tea as well."

An unmistakable smile consumed Edith's face as her heart began to race. "I should like that very much," she answered.

Antony's grin matched her own. _Perhaps, _he thought, _she will make me worthy again._

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**I hope this chapter isn't too much of a disappointment. I had originally written it differently, with Edith being more direct to Antony, but it didn't feel right. I think Edith's character is one of the most intriguing, and I think she can still be bold without pushing a relationship on Sir Antony. Oh well, it's written now. Suggestions/comments/feedback are always welcomed. The next chapter will reveal Matthew's breakthrough. I'm writing it now!**


	5. Chapter 5

Matthew let his eyes close for a moment as the car approached Downton. He and Mary had been here for nearly a month, and he still hadn't been honest with her about why he had brought her back home.

John Bates, he feared, was running out of time. If they were to move forward with this case, then they needed to move soon, before the courts lost interest.

He had to talk to her tonight; there was no more putting it off. He and Mr. Murray, Lord Grantham's lawyer, had gone as far as they could without her. To move forward would mean to involve his fiancé now.

"There you are, Mr. Crawley," the chauffeur said as he opened the door for Matthew. Matthew thanked him, thinking it weird that Branson wasn't the one to drive him. _Tom,_ he corrected himself.

After the newspapers reported Mary's dealings with Kemal Pamuk, Matthew suggested she spend some time in Ireland with her sister. Mary took his advice and Matthew joined her. In the two weeks they were in Ireland, Matthew and Tom became rather good friends. In fact, it was Tom who suggested Matthew travel back to London and help fight for Mr. Bate's freedom.

Matthew stepped out of the car and into the evening air wishing Tom was here now. Tom Branson was a fighter, and although there were times when his impulses got the better of him, he could usually evaluate situations with a level head. Tom would know how to tell Mary, and Sybil, he thought, would help to calm her down afterward.

Matthew stood for a few moments kicking in the dust like a child, trying to catch just a moment or two of clarity before entering the home. He took a deep breath. He would tell Mary tonight. He had to.

. . . . .

Mary let the warm March breeze gently rock her back and forth as she stood in the courtyard staring out into the darkness. She had come out for the stars, which seemed to call to her nightly. They, unlike most of the developed world, didn't recount her past mistakes.

In the past months, Mary had made a habit of spending her evenings outside instead of lying in her bed with headlines of articles and rumors running through her head. She often wondered if there were a set of ears her secretes hadn't reached. _Matthew, _she thought again. Her past had reached his ears; however, it didn't seem to penetrate his heart. She used to worry that perhaps he had misunderstood her confession until one night in York when he was visiting his mother. She snuck outside after dinner, breathing the sweet night air, wondering again how she had become so lucky to have Matthew.

_"Trying to run away?" Matthew had asked her as he stepped toward her. _

_ "Not quite," Mary replied, smiling at the way the breeze tossed Matthew's hair. _

_ "You look as though you have the weight of the world on your shoulders," he told her. _

_ "Well," Mary answered, "I suppose that's what happens when the whole world knows one's secrets."_

_ "Your secrets don't scare me, Mary," he told her. "Your past doesn't change the way I feel about you; it doesn't change the way I see you."_

_ "Oh, Matthew," she said, "It has to. Even I look at myself differently because of my past."_

_ "When I look at you, I only see you as you have always been - strong, brave, confident, and courageous. And I see you as you will be as my wife."_

_ "I don't deserve you," Mary replied when she remembered how to speak. _

_ "Quite the opposite," Matthew said. "But I have you anyway, and you have me. So perhaps you'll consider letting me carry some of the weight of that burden."_

Mary sighed. She missed Matthew. He had traveled to York for a week to work on Mr. Bate's case and was scheduled to arrive by train tomorrow. It was in times of his absence that she longed to be married to him sooner. She wasn't sure why, as marriage didn't guarantee the continuous presence of another.

She thought of Anna, who had watched four months pass without her husband by her side. Mary couldn't imagine.

She remembered what Sybil had said to her once. _"Being alone is much more difficult after you have someone to give it meaning."_

She had found someone to give the word lonely meaning, but little did she know he stood opposite of her in the courtyard now. Matthew stood at the far end, watching as she swayed with the breeze. He loved her like this, free from the hushed whispers and too-long glances that haunted her. Mary looked so lovely, standing among the rose bushes, the moonlight softly illuminating her face.

"I thought I might find you here," Matthew said as he cleared his throat.

Mary turned around, struggling to make out the features of Matthew's face. Matthew was thankful for the darkness as it hid the anxiety that danced in his eyes.

"Matthew," she said when she thought she could recognize him. "Is it really you? I didn't think you were scheduled to return tonight."

"I didn't know I was to return tonight either," he told her as he stepped closer. "Mr. Murray sent me home early."

Mary was truly overjoyed to see him and she let a smile spread wide and foolishly across her face. She wrapped her arms around him and rested her head on his chest. Matthew breathed her in, smelling of the roses she spent her nights among.

"I'm so glad you've returned," she told him earnestly. "I was only just wishing you were here."

Matthew smiled down at her, "I've missed you too, my darling." Matthew smiled down and thought for a moment that perhaps tonight wasn't the night to talk to Mary as he had intended. He wasn't sure how she would take his news, and the thoughts of disrupting her current happiness were enough to make him consider postponing the inevitable.

"What did Mr. Murray say?" she asked as she pulled away from him. "Have we good news for Anna?"

The mention of Anna brought Matthew out of his debacle. Anna and John. He owed it to them to hasten this case, and again, he thought, the only way to do that was to involve his future wife.

"He said that we need to move forward," Matthew told her as he sat down on the bench overlooking the roses.

"What does that mean?" she asked as she sat next to him.

"It means that it's time to inform you of our breakthrough," Matthew said after clearing his throat. Goodness, he was nervous. He pushed his hair from his forehead.

Mary turned to look at him. "Well, what is it?" she asked excitedly, finding pleasure in her fiancés final willingness to tell her.

Matthew cleared his throat again. "Mary," he told her. "It's very important you not repeat any of this, even to Anna until I say it's to be done."

"Yes, yes," Mary dismissed him impatiently. She had been waiting for a long time to hear his news.

"I'm serious," Matthew repeated. "I'm afraid I'm already jeopardizing your safety by involving you. You must remain absolutely quiet."

Quiet was something Mary knew. Hadn't she kept quiet about Mr. Pamuk for years before telling anyone?

"My lips are sealed," Mary vowed becoming somewhat annoyed at Matthew's childlike treatment of her.

"Very well," Matthew took a deep breath and looked around the courtyard making sure they were alone. "We've had someone come forward with what seemed like possible information on Vera Bates' death."

"You mean her suicide?" Mary corrected him.

"I'm afraid I mean her death," Matthew restated.

"I'm not understanding," Mary said as she furrowed her brow in concentration.

"We've had someone come forward," Matthew told her. "Someone with some information indicating that Vera was murdered."

"But John Bates is innocent," Mary claimed, still not comprehending exactly what it was that Matthew was trying to tell her.

"That," Matthew said, "is without a doubt. The source said that Vera came to him a day before her death. She knew she was in trouble, but it wasn't John she was afraid of."

"Well, is the information reliable? It's not just someone creating a story?"

"We've hired a private investigator, and he seems to think the information is reliable. Mr. Murray and I think so as well. The story makes more sense than Vera's suicide."

"So why haven't you brought this to the court?" Mary asked. "Mr. Bates could be home by the end of the week!"

Matthew smiled at his wife's enthusiasm. He rather loved the way she had cheered him on in this, the ways she encouraged and kept pushing him.

"It's not that simple, I'm afraid," Matthew told her. "Whereas, we believe that someone else is responsible for Vera's death, we need more evidence before we can bring it before a judge. To bring this to court before it is sufficient would be to hinder Mr. Bates' case. We would appear desperate and juvenile."

"We are desperate, Matthew," Mary pleaded. "How will you ever get more evidence?"

Matthew nervously wiped his hands on his pants. "Well," Matthew said trying to keep his voice from cracking, "that's something I'll need your help with."

"My help?" Mary asked. "What will I be able to do?"

"I'm afraid that you might know our possible suspect. No," Matthew corrected himself, "I'm positive you know our suspect."

If Mary was confused before, she was completely lost now. Her being acquaintances with a murderer? The thought was too big to grasp.

"Who?" she asked, trying to mentally sort names of friends into the categories of innocent and murderer.

"Mary," Matthew said, taking her hands in his. "Before I tell you, you have to trust me. We've been investigating this for two months now, and I wouldn't be telling you unless I was sure."

"Who is it?" Mary asked, growing impatient and frustrated.

Matthew took a deep breath. He was too far gone now; he had no choice but to tell her. She would be as much a part of this case now as he was.

"Sir Richard Carlisle."

* * *

**There you have it, my take on Vera Bates death. Really, did anyone honestly like Richard? Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I hope to have another one up soon. All reviews, comments, suggestions are welcomed and appreciated. Thanks!**


	6. Chapter 6

Mary felt as though the floor had fallen out from under her. It might as well have. Sir Richard, a murderer? She dismissed it almost instantly.

Richard was a lot of things – short-tempered, controlling, jealous, and power hungry, but surely he wasn't a killer.

_No, _she thought, _Matthew is confused. This can't be. _

Matthew could see the shock register on Mary's face as she tried to justify their situation. He had anticipated this much. Sir Richard had been, after all, her fiancé for a period of time. He expected his announcement to shake her.

Mary shook her head again, as if the motion would help clarify things.

"Say something," Matthew pleaded after what seemed like years of silence.

"What am I to say?" Mary asked him. "I think this whole thing is absurd!" Mary standing and pacing now.

Matthew tried his best to remain calm. Heaven only knew how much one of them needed a level head. "I know," Matthew told her. "But please, just listen."

"What dealings did Richard even have with Vera?" Mary asked him, but as soon as the words left her mouth she realized her own answer. Vera Bates had learned of Mary's secret, and Richard, in an attempt to save Mary's reputation, had bought the story from her.

Matthew watched Mary as she mentally reminded herself of such things. "Precisely," he said as she eased herself back onto the bench.

"Just because Vera and Richard engaged in business doesn't mean that he killed her," Mary told him.

"No," Matthew said. "I agree with that, but you knew Richard. Was he not protective of his stories?"

"He is a journalist, Matthew!" Mary exclaimed, up and pacing again. "He has to be protective of such things!"

"Was he known to use threats to ensure there protection?" Matthew asked her, matching her tone, he was getting worked up now too.

Mary knew first hand that Richard was protective of everything he could remotely call his. The only thing she could recall was the time at Downton when Richard had become angry, pushed her against the wall, and grabbed her wrists telling her, "You must never cross me."

Mary swallowed hard. Was it possible that this man had killed Vera? "Yes," she answered Matthew meekly.

"Mary," Matthew said as he crossed over to her. "The man that came forward owns a newspaper rival to Richard's. He claims that Vera Bates came to him with the story of Kemal Pamuk five days before her death. He said she was frustrated with Richard for not having run the story. We have witnesses who saw her arrive and leave. The newspaper owner wrote the story and was fully prepared to publish it until Richard caught wind of it. He threatened to destroy the whole paper should the story be run and inquired as to how he came to possess it."

"Isn't that confidential?" Mary asked.

"It was," Matthew answered. "But that didn't stop Richard from finding his answer. The man contacted Vera to let her know of the happenings. Vera came back to his business two days later saying her home had been broken into and that she was scared."

"But not of John Bates," Mary answered, following Matthew's story.

"Of Richard Carlisle," Matthew finished.

Mary sat down on the bench again. This was all too much. She let her head rest in her hands as she thought it might explode from the new information she was receiving.

"But why didn't Vera call the police after the break in?" Mary asked him.

"The man asked her the same question. She was afraid they would arrest her for breaking her contract with Richard. It was the next afternoon that John Bates came to visit her. And the day after that, she was found dead."

"Did she say anything to John about it?" Mary asked.

Matthew shook his head. "Not that we know right now."

"What do you mean not that we know right now?" Mary asked.

Matthew took a deep breath. "Mr. Bates doesn't know that Richard is in question."

"Why not?" Mary asked. "He may be able to help."

"We need more proof, Mary. John Bates has had his hopes lifted and crushed for the past four months now. There is only so much of that a man can take before giving up altogether. Mr. Murray thinks it'd be best to wait until we have sufficient proof."

"But he could provide that," Mary told him.

"If John Bates had sufficient evidence, he would have given it us already," Matthew said. He was exhausted, and ready for all of this to be finished.

"So how are you going to find sufficient evidence?" Mary asked him.

Matthew took a deep breath. He hated himself for having to involve Mary. "That's why we need your help," he said quietly.

"Me?" Mary asked. "What am I to do?"

Matthew was sure that if Mr. Murray were here now, he would tell him they would have to find another way. That he would absolutely not bring his future wife into this, not with that wide-eyed look she was giving him now. Matthew ran his fingers through his hair. "There are two ways you can help us," Matthew said, refusing to look her in the eyes. "We need for you to come to York and give us all the information you can about Richard Carlisle and where he was in the days surrounding Vera Bates' death, and then depending on what we find you may need to testify against him in court."

Mary thought for a moment. She didn't particularly like the idea of being involved directly in the case now. But she thought of Anna again, and the chance she had to help her friend. "Alright," she agreed.

"The other way," Matthew said as he lowered his voice, "is to go see Sir Richard."

. . . . .

John Bates sat in his damp cell, his thoughts as always preoccupied with Anna. He read her letter again. _I long for the day you return home, and I can have my way with you once again. _There were nights when John could almost feel Anna's head resting on his shoulder. His time here was marked in the days spent away from his love.

Anna had visited him several times here, but John had given Matthew and Mary orders to keep her at Downton. He hated her seeing him like this. He couldn't stand watching her eyes fill with fear as she watched the way the cold, damp cells affected his leg. He knew the images of his darkened eyes and thinning frame haunted her far beyond their visit.

_No, _he thought. _It was better that she stay at Downton and remember him as he was._

He thought back to Mr. Crawley's visit early this week. He had come to update him on his case. Mr. Murray and Mr. Crawley had informed John of their breakthrough a few weeks ago; however, they couldn't tell him more than that.

Mr. Crawley came Thursday to inform him that they were moving forward with the tip and that they had high hopes for it. That John should as well.

_High hopes_, he thought.

He couldn't lose hope, not yet. He would be home soon. He would be able to hug his Anna to him, and he would never let her go. That much he could promise.

The night guard turned out the lights, marking another day he had spent away from his wife.

John laid back in his bed, shutting his eyes, but never really sleeping. The dark bags that resided below his eyes paid testament to that.

In the darkness of the cell, he would let his mind wander to Downton, to the memories of his wife and their life together.

Tonight, his memory took him back to the day of the flower show. That day that his loving Anna had stopped him in his tracks as she proclaimed her love for him. The way her face was set in determination.

The words had shocked him, so much so that he let her go on that ridiculous speech about her not being a lady. He smiled at the memory of her being so worked up that she was shaking her head.

His Anna was a strong-willed girl. A strong-willed girl who refused to give up on him.

That was the day he lost all resolve. He had made promises to himself to avoid falling in love with the girl, but Anna made those nearly impossible to abide by. He hoped by avoiding her, by being polite but distant, that he would be able to keep those feelings of love at bay, and he had truly believed that by doing so, he was giving Anna a chance at a better life with someone else.

But she had broken those down the instant she told him she loved him. He had hardly believed it. In fact, there were times when he could still hardly believe Anna's love and devotion to him. The ways she had stood beside him in all of this. The ways she refused to moved. Anna Smith was the strongest person he knew. _Anna Bates_, he corrected himself with a smile.

She was his wife, even though they had hardly spent any time together as such. Their married life had been marked with occasional visits spent sitting across from each other with an armed guard at his side.

John Bates let his eyes grow shut as they grew heavy. He would sleep tonight, and as they often did, his dreams would take him to his beautiful wife and the home of Downton he had left behind. And although, he tried his hardest to maintain hope, he wondered if he would ever see either as a free man again.

* * *

Thanks everyone for the reviews, suggestions, and comments! As always, they are much appreciated. I'm hoping to get another chapter finished this weekend, and hopefully bring Sybil back to Downton soon.


	7. Chapter 7

_Thank you everyone for being patient. I'm excited about some developing Tom and Sybil action =)_

* * *

"Really, Tom," Sybil said. "You look as if you're being marched to the Guillotine."

Tom Branson inhaled nervously. "I may very well be," he replied under his breath.

Sybil smiled at her husband and let her head rest on the window of the train. Although the long trip had worn her thin, she could hardly contain her excitement.

Tom watched out the window as well, noting the familiar sights of the village starting to roll into view. He had written to Lady Grantham nearly a month ago, asking to send Sybil to Downton. He was anxious about her keeping her in Ireland with the increasing dangers. His plan had been to send Sybil to the safety of her family's estate and then to join her later for the birth of their baby. Although the thought of being away from his wife for two months made him feel ill, he knew that they would both feel more comfortable with the extra money he would make by being able to work those few extra weeks.

But conditions in Ireland had changed drastically. It was no longer safe for either of them. As soon as Lady Grantham replied, insisting they both come and stay for the birth of the baby, Tom packed them up and left.

He remembered Sybil's insistence on staying. "I'll not be made a coward," she had argued when he told her they were both going to Downton indefinitely.

"Sybil," he told her gently as he took her hands in his. "This is no longer about being called names, but about the safety of our child. I can't live here a minute more knowing that every day we stay will be a day I risk your life and the life of our baby."

Sybil remembered being rather shocked at his level-headedness. _There would have been a time, _she thought, _when he would have run out the front door to join the rebellions. _

But now, looking out the window, thinking again of facing his wife's father and Mr. Carson, neither of whom exactly supported his marriage to Sybil, Tom wasn't sure if maybe Ireland wasn't the safer of the two options.

"Do you think Mama has told Mary and Edith?" Sybil asked excitedly. She had written to her mother almost immediately after she discovered she was pregnant. She had given her Mama strict instructions to keep the news from her sisters, as she intended to be there to see their reactions.

"I think Lady Grantham has held true to her word," Tom answered her.

Sybil rolled her eyes. "You really must start calling her Cora," Sybil told him. "And I know she said she wouldn't tell them, but you never can be certain with Mama. She's not the most skilled at keeping secrets."

Tom smiled at his wife's rounded stomach and he placed his hand over it, "I think your sisters will be surprised regardless."

Tom didn't necessarily like the idea of arriving at Downton with such shocking news, but Sybil had insisted upon it, and not many people were strong-willed enough to withstand Sybil's insisting.

This would be the first time they would visit Downton as husband and wife, the first time that he would have to face Lord Grantham as his youngest daughter's husband. The thought was enough to send his heart racing again.

"Oh, Tom," Sybil said as she placed a hand calmly on his knee to stop his tapping foot. "Everything will be fine, you'll see. Papa has calmed down it seems. He never was good at staying angry. He'll behave."

Sybil knew her father. She had always had him wrapped around her finger. He was upset when she told him she was in love with Tom and that they would be married, but Sybil knew this anger stemmed from her father wanting the best for her. She was sure that her father would see how truly happy she was and that all would return to normal. This baby would have him wrapped around its finger just as Sybil did.

The train began to slow, and Sybil anxiously strained her neck to glimpse out the window. She loved her life in Ireland with Tom. She loved the freedom it brought. She enjoyed feeling tired after a day's work, and she liked the thought of contributing to society. But through all of it, she missed Downton. She was glad to be back in this familiar place with friends and family. That Tom was willing to bring her back just made her love him more.

Tom smiled at his wife. "You're happy to be home, aren't you?" he asked her as the train stopped.

A carefree smile spread across Sybil's face as she took his hand in hers. "So very happy," she replied letting a small giggle escape her.

Tom smiled widely too. His wife was happy, and that meant he could face whatever awaited him at Downton.

. . . . .

Mary sat at the mirror letting Anna tug and pin her hair. Her mind was elsewhere, as it had seemed to be since Matthew's speech to her in the courtyard last week. She had dwelled on the news ever since. At first, she was sure that Richard Carlisle was not a murderer, but as she continued to obsess over it, she began to see that perhaps he could be.

She swallowed hard. Matthew had removed his proposal that Mary go speak to Sir Richard almost directly after it left his mouth, and Mary had not argued with his retreat, but now she wondered if perhaps she should go speak to him. If for no other reason than to try to read him herself.

Anna worked steadily, curling Mary's hair and pinning it on the back of her head. Her mind, too, was somewhere else. Her last letter from John had been less than comforting. She needed to go see him, she knew that it would lift his spirits.

"Yes, Milady," Anna said, locking eyes with Mary in the mirror.

"Hm?" Mary asked.

"I'm sorry," Anna replied. "Did you say something?"

"I don't believe so. Did you say something?" Mary asked.

"No, I don't believe so," Anna replied. "I suppose my mind is someplace else, Milady."

"That's quiet alright," Mary replied. "I suppose mine is somewhere else as well."

Anna nodded and returned to work. "Are you excited about Lady Sybil's return?" Anna asked. Personally, she was looking forward to having the three sisters back home again. The extra work would mean tiring days, and tiring days would mean fewer nights of her lying in bed thinking of John.

"I suppose so," Mary said, attempting to underplay her happiness surrounding Sybil's return. She had missed her sister in the months she'd been away from Downton. Sybil and Mary had always been close, and Mary was certainly glad to have her companion home during this confusing time for her. Even though Matthew made her promise not to tell anyone of Sir Richard's possible guilt, Mary had every intention of telling her sister. Even though Sybil was the youngest of the girls, she was often the wisest, and Mary was counting on that wisdom to see her through this.

There was a knock at the door, and Cora Crawley entered the room.

Mary could tell she was ecstatic. Her presence radiated joy. _That's the difference between Mama and me, _Mary thought. Cora Crawley wore her emotions on her sleeve, while Mary worked hard to hide every emotion she felt. _I suppose that's her American heritage,_ Mary thought.

"Someone's rather happy," Mary said dryly as Cora walked over to her.

"Sybil is coming home today," Cora cooed. "Of course I'm happy."

"Aren't you a bit worried about Papa?" Mary asked her mother.

Anna watched with interest. She knew from John and from her own observations that Lord Grantham was not exactly _pleased _with Lady Sybil's choice of husband. In fact, he had refused to go to the wedding, a decision she knew he regretted, but still. Lord Grantham could be a stubborn man; there was no question where Lady Sybil acquired it.

"Papa will behave himself," Cora answered her daughter. "He's promised me that much. Now, are you ready to great them?"

Anna finished pinning the last piece of Mary's hair in place, and followed both women to the first floor where she found the other servants waiting to welcome Lady Sybil home.

Mr. Carson stood stoic and stone-faced, even though the car was no where near approach. He too, was not very found of Lady's Sybil's choice of husband, or rather, Tom Branson's nerve in pursuing a woman beyond his class. Mr. Branson had crossed a dangerous line, and Carson would not forgive him for that.

Anna took her place between Mrs. Hughes and O'Brien, while Mary stood between awkwardly beside Matthew and Edith. Since the reveal of the breakthrough in Mr. Bate's case, Mary wasn't exactly sure what to say or how to act around her husband, a man who was convinced that the man she had intentions to marry was a murderer. Matthew and Mary had been polite enough in the past week, but both felt the awkwardness that Sir Richard's involvement in the case had brought between them.

"They should be here any minute now," Cora said as she placed a hand on her husband's arm and strained her neck to look beyond the drive.

Lord Grantham tried his best not too look put out. He was excited to have Sybil home again, under his protection and his own roof. He was none too thrilled about the simultaneous arrival of her husband. He had promised Cora he would behave, a sentiment he was sure would take more self-control than he contained.

"Is that them?" Edith asked when she saw a cloud of dust kicked up down the road.

"I'm sure it is," Mary replied, turning her neck to see down the path.

Lord Grantham swallowed hard and worked to unclench his hands from the fists they had instinctively formed in his pockets. He would behave, for Sybil, he would give Tom Branson a fair chance. Or at the very least, he would try.

* * *

Thank you everyone for the reviews, follows, and favorites! Up next: More Tom and Sybil, Edith and Antony, and Mary and Matthew. It's good to have all three girls back together again!


	8. Chapter 8

Inside the car, Tom kept one hand rested on Sybil's knee. From a distance, he could see the family and servants lined up outside the house to receive them and exhaled sharply.

Sybil could see the anxiety play behind his eyes. She knew how difficult this was for him, and loved him even more for bringing her home.

"Tom," Sybil said gently as she rested her hand on his clean-shaven cheek. "You've already won me, and nothing that happens here will change that."

Tom smiled at his wife, moving his face to hers until their lips were touching. Tom kissed her lovingly, not caring that the driver was spying in the mirrors, until he felt a tiny kick in his side.

"Oh not you too, little one," Tom said as he put a calming hand on Sybil's rounded stomach. "You've nothing to worry about. They'll love you."

Tom looked out the window and could make out the sullen face of Lord Grantham juxtaposed by the bright-eyed smile on Lady Grantham's face.

"I love you," Tom said quietly. "You too, my little one."

"We love you too," Sybil replied stealing a quick kiss on Tom's cheek before the car came to a stop in front of the great house.

Tom took a deep breath, and opened the door. He quickly walked around the side of his car to help his wife from the car.

Sybil stepped on the ground. She could feel her heart racing and could hardly control the carefree smile that spread across her face.

"Are you ready?" Tom whispered.

Sybil nodded excitedly, and together they began to walk from behind the car.

Mary was the first to notice her sister and her rounded stomach.

"Dear God," she said, louder than she intended. In fact, if she had remembered she was surrounded by others, she wouldn't have said anything at all.

Matthew put a hand on Mary's arm, to remind her of this. "I believe she means congratulations," Matthew smiled as he shock Tom's hand.

Mary took a step back. She hated and loved, if that was possible, how Matthew had the correct words to say for every situation. _I suppose that's why he's a lawyer, _she thought.

"Oh Sybil," Cora cooed as she took her youngest daughter in her arms and kissed her on the cheeks. Lady Grantham pulled away just slightly to look over her daughter's rounded frame. She was radiant. "You look beautiful darling."

Mary, Edith, and the servants all watched on trying to comprehend the unfolding of events, while Sybil smiled as she was passed from one person to the next to be hugged and fussed over.

Anna turned instinctively to say something to Mr. Bates, only to realize again that he wasn't there. _John wouldn't believe this, _she thought to herself and made a mental note to write him as soon as she retired later this evening.

"Tom, we're so glad you're back," Cora smiled politely as she placed a hand on his arm.

Through all the upturning of events, Lord Grantham couldn't take his eyes off his daughter. His baby, round with child. His sweet precious Sybil. He had known of the pregnancy, but it hadn't registered until he saw his daughter standing before him with that round little bump emerging from behind her coat. And suddenly, all the work he had done to calm himself had been for waste. He could hardly breathe. He knew his face was growing red, but all he could think of was that Tom Branson had done _this_ to his daughter.

"Papa," Sybil said, bringing Lord Grantham out of his gaze.

Lord Grantham worked to unclench his jaw, and managed a meek smile at his daughter. "Hello Sybil," he said, concentrating on each word to keep his voice from rising out in anger.

Sybil smiled, the same smiled that had made Lord Grantham bend to nearly all her requests as a child, and ran to her father.

Lord Grantham took her in his arms and let himself realize the full extent of how much he had missed his youngest daughter.

"You look well, my darling," he said, still torn between the love of his daughter and the anger he felt toward the man who took her away from him. Cora gave him a knowing look, as if to remind him that their goal was to keep their daughter here so they could be a part of their grandchild's life. Robert sighed. He didn't want to play nice, he had no reason to, other than his love for Sybil.

Anna, who had been watching the unfolding of events noticed the brief tilt of his head that Lord Grantham gave as Mr. Branson finally met eyes with him. Tom returned this greeting with the same gesture.

Anna exhaled in relief as she felt the tension of the situation released with the seemingly truce of the men.

Mr. Carson, though, she noticed, was not near reaching a point of truce. He was too much a professional to mention his thoughts in public; however, it didn't take much for one to read his feelings. His face was flushed, his eyes, it seemed never left the back of Tom Branson's head. _If looks could kill, _Anna thought. _Tom would be dead ten times over. _

. . . . .

Tom shut the door and let his weight lean against it.

"See," Sybil said, as she opened a case and began unpacking their things. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

Tom took a deep breath, trying to recollect his thoughts. Habitually, he loosened his tie and unbuttoned his collar. "I don't know what that was," he answered honestly.

"I told you Papa would behave," she continued as Tom began helping to organize their things.

"Yes, Milady," Tom said teasingly.

"Stop it," she said as she playfully swatted his arm. "I can't help that I was correct."

"So this is what it feels like to be in the room of Lady Sybil Crawley," he said as he sat down on the edge of her bed. "You know, I dreamed of what this might be like."

"I believe it's Nurse Branson now," she smiled, letting him pull her into his warm arms. Sybil let herself realize that this was the first time Tom had been in her room. It felt so odd to her that she was back here. Her time in this room was a like a different life to her. A life without Tom and without purpose, which, in her mind, were nearly the same thing. A life where her greatest responsibility was to arrive at dinner in the proper attire at the proper time. "And I spent quite a lot of time thinking about you in this room."

Sybil's love for Tom was something that originated long before she realized. It was the kind of love that started out of friendship. She looked away for only a moment, and there she was, in love with the chauffeur.

"Aye," Tom replied, lowering her head to hers. "Did you spend some time spying on me as well?"

Sybil laughed. "Whatever do you mean?"

Tom smiled and nodded toward the window. "I believe you can see the garage from that window."

"And how do you know that?" Sybil asked, pulling away so she could interrogate him.

"Because I could see it from the garage," he replied, thinking of how he used to count up three floors and over five windows from the west wall. "As I was leaving at night, I'd check to see whether the light was on or off. It let me know whether you were safe or still awake causing trouble, Milady."

A sly smile spread across Branson's lips, and Sybil couldn't help but laugh at her husband. "Well, I wouldn't call what I did spying so much as I would call it keep track of you. How do you think I knew where to find you those nights?" she asked him, remembering the evenings when she would look out her window to see whether the lights in the garage were still on and then invent excuses to go see him.

"Well, I suppose we both needed to be watched over," Tom replied, pulling Sybil back into him.

"Well, there's no one watching us now," Sybil smiled mischievously as she stood on her tiptoes to reach his lips.

Sybil sighed contentedly as Tom's mouth worked to open hers. He let his hands wander down her spine as Sybil ran her hands through his hair. She didn't know happiness like this could exist. _So much has changed, _she thought, _since the last time I was in this room. _

There was a knock at the door.

"Ignore it," Sybil said against Tom's groan.

"They know we're here," Tom whispered as he placed a final kiss on Sybil's forehead and redid his tie and collar.

Sybil pouted as she went back to unpacking.

"I hope I'm not interrupting," Mary said coolly.

"Not at all," Tom lied and forced a smile. Realizing that she wanted some time with her sister, he decided to leave them be. "I was just going to see Matthew."

Mary watched her sister smile as Tom left the room and shut the door behind him. Sybil was ecstatic, that much was evident. With her coat off, her stomach was even more so evident; her face more rounded than it once had been too.

"You're really pregnant," Mary said, still working to comprehend the news.

Sybil smiled, "I'm not pretending, if that's what you're asking."

"No," Mary said. "I just, well, I can't believe it, that's all."

Sybil stopped unpacking for a moment and sat on the edge of her bed, letting her hand rest instinctively on her stomach. "To be honest," she said, "there are times I can't believe it either."

Mary was still trying to sort it in her head. She wasn't the best at interpreting shocking news, as evident by her reactions at Sybil's arrival. "How?" Mary asked, saying the only word she could get her brain to wrap around.

Sybil laughed. "I don't think you really want to know that, Mary," she replied.

"No," Mary said shaking her head. "How long?"

"Nearly five months," Sybil said.

"Five months," Mary repeated shocked.

"You're not upset, are you?" Sybil asked, worried that her sister would be angry that she had kept this from her for so long.

"Upset?" Mary asked. She was far from upset. In fact, she was happy for her youngest sister. "Of course not! I'm to be an aunt, and you're going to be a mother. I'm just still trying to understand. I wasn't expecting this!"

Sybil smiled, she was glad for her sister's presence. She had missed Mary in her time away from Downton, and to have her companion back now, someone to be on her team through this, it was a welcomed feeling. "Well, Tom and I weren't exactly expecting it either."

"But you are prepared for it, aren't you?" Mary asked, the question she had been wondering since Sybil arrived. Was her younger sister prepared to birth and raise a child?

"Mary," Sybil said, placing a reassuring hand on her older sister's knee. "Tom and I work; it doesn't mean we're starving to death."

"No," Mary said, not wanting to offend her sister, "that's not what I meant. I was just wondering, well, in your condition you can't work, and with Tom just moving here, I'm assuming he's not found work yet."

Sybil shrugged. "Tom and I will make due."

Mary shook her head. There were times when she wondered if she would ever understand her younger sister and her views on money and hierarchy, but she loved Sybil all the same, and at the root of her worries was a genuine concern for not only Sybil's welfare but also that of Tom's and their child's. "Well, as long as Matthew and I are here, you'll always have a home."

Sybil smiled. Having Mary on her side would be a powerful advantage. "Thank you, Mary," Sybil said honestly.

Mary's eyes rested again on Sybil's stomach. She found herself fascinated by the tiny life growing inside her sister, but if Mary was being honest, it seemed that any "tiny life" these days seemed to latch hold of her heart. Mary had never thought much of babies, finding them needy, unnecessary, and otherwise a nuisance, but lately, it seemed that every infant she passed sent a warm longing through her bones that left her aching for something more. And now, the only image she could seem to summon was one of tiny Crawleys and Bransons playing in the courtyard of Downton.

"Oh!" Sybil said as she began rubbing the top of her stomach in hopes that the tiny infant would subside its kicking.

Mary looked quizzically at her sister. "Sorry," Sybil offered. "It's just he's kicking me right in the ribs."

"He?" Mary asked. "Is there a way to tell…for certain?"

"Oh no," Sybil said, rather enjoying for once having the upper hand with Mary. "But Tom is convinced it's a girl, so for the sake of an argument, I'm siding with a boy."

Mary nodded, this at least, she could understand. "May I…well may I feel it?" she asked shyly.

Sybil smiled at her sister's self-consciousness, this was such a side of Mary Sybil had never seen before. "Of course," she replied.

Mary cautiously moved her hand to her sister's stomach. She was surprised by its tightness. She let her hand rest there for a moment before she felt a tiny pop right on her palm.

"Oh my goodness!" Mary said, pulling her hand away quickly. "Was that it?"

Sybil laughed at her sister's reaction, "Yes, what do you think it was?"

"Does it hurt much?" Mary asked, reaching back for her sister's stomach.

"Not much," Sybil replied. "Only when he catches me in the ribs."

Again, Mary felt the tiny kick on her hand. She let out a carefree giggle at the tiny infant's persistence in trying to remove the hand from his mother's stomach. Sybil laughed with her sister until they had both fallen back on the bed, grateful for the presence of the other.

"I think you'll make a great mother," Mary said quietly.

Sybil smiled at the ceiling, thankful again that her sister was on her team. "When the time comes," Sybil said. "I think you'll make a great mother too."

* * *

_Thank you all again. I must admit that I had a great deal of fun writing the Mary/Sybil scene. I love those two girls together. As always, comments and suggestions are much appreciated. Thanks!_


	9. Chapter 9

Hi everyone! Thank you for the kind reviews and comments. I just wanted to let you know that there are no intentional spoilers here. I don't live in the UK, so unfortunately season 3 won't start until January for me. Enjoy!

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Tom let his hands wander aimlessly over the creased bindings of the well-worn books in Lord Grantham's library. He could hardly count the times he would drift into the library to pick a book to read during the long quiet nights of his employment. Then, they had served as a distraction, anything to keep his mind off Sybil.

Tom's fingers stopped at the hunter green cover_. _He couldn't help but smile at the deteriorating binding as he cautiously pulled it from the shelf. _The book with no title, _he thought to himself. He cautiously thumbed through the pages, remembering the day the book appeared on his worktable in the garage with a short handwritten note inside, a note that could still be found folded carefully and hidden in the breast pocket of his gray suit jacket.

_Dear Tom-_

_ I finished this novel just yesterday and the whole time I thought it something you might enjoy. Perhaps, we could discuss your thoughts on it after you've finished. _

_ Sybil_

_ Tom had memorized the contents of the note the same evening he received it. It hadn't been long after Sybil returned from nursing school. How she had the free time to read, Tom never questioned, but what he did know was that Sybil was fully aware of his feelings toward her the day she placed the book on his table. _

_ It had taken Tom all of two days to finished the book, which had been an essay on the politics of hierarchy and social classes. Tom did enjoy reading it, just as Sybil had predicted, and true to her word, the next evening, Sybil Crawley came to the garage, long after being relieved of her duties that consisted of, Tom guessed, sitting in the library and listening to her relatives talk about the woos of aristocracy._

_ "You seemed to finish it rather quickly," Sybil smiled as she stood at the entrance of the garage. _

_ Tom looked up from his work on the car and smiled back at her. "It was a pleasant enough read," he replied as he wiped his hands on the old rag he kept handy when working on the engines._

_ He and Sybil sat in the garage and talked for as long as either of them could afford, and although it pained both of them to have to separate, they agreed they would continue their conversation the following evening. _

"_I just don't understand," Tom had said. "How these people can sit in their castles while they have so much and disregard those who have so little."_

"_We're not all bad, Tom," Sybil said. "We give to charity, and some of us even volunteer with the war effort," Sybil smiled warily as she motioned to the nursing uniform she was still wearing from her evening of work. _

_Tom moved the crate he was using as a makeshift chair closer to Sybil so she could see the passage in the book he was referring to. "I didn't mean Lord Grantham, Milady. I find that he's a fair employer. It only seems that some are more concerned with their title than with the peasants in their own village."_

"_We're trained at birth that the most important item we possess is our title. We're trained to think it's a privilege, and a delicacy to be preserved at all cost." Sybil's voice became softer, and it was increasingly harder for her to concentrate on what she was trying to communicate as Tom Branson's lips looked more and more inviting. "Not all of us are lucky enough to see through the lie."_

_Tom swallowed hard. He was inches away from Sybil now, and he felt as though she might be able to hear his heart pounding in his chest. "And have you seen through the lie, Milady?" he asked her. _

_Sybil couldn't think straight. Everything about her wanted to run away with Tom, even then she had known that, but her whole life would be separated into two very messy worlds. And that she wasn't sure she was ready to handle. So when she was finally able to think clearly enough to form a sentence, she replied very softly, "I'm nearly there, I think."_

_His lips looked so inviting that Sybil really didn't have any other option but to lean in to kiss them. Just as she was half an inch away from him, something outside the garage made a large noise, something loud enough to snap Sybil and Tom back to attention. "I should go," Sybil said hastily, and before Tom could even say goodbye, she had left him. _

_Tom went two days without so much as seeing Lady Sybil. He was sure that he had scared her off, that he had ruined everything. And then, three nights after the two had almost kissed, another book appeared on his worktable with another note asking if they could discuss it when he finished. _

"I thought you might be in here, what with my fiancé running you out," Matthew smiled as he stepped in the room.

"Ah, it's not so much a problem," Tom replied, coming out of his memories and placing the book back on the shelf. "I think Sybil was looking forward to spending some time with Mary."

"I hope she doesn't mind being interrogated," Matthew said as he sat down in one of the armchairs. "I tried to tell Mary to let her rest, but Mary doesn't seem to heed instructions very well."

Tom nodded as he sat in a chair across from Matthew. "It must be a trait that runs in all Crawley women."

"How is Sybil?" Matthew asked. "She's not still getting ill in the mornings, is she?"

Tom shook his head, "No, she's past that now, I think. She says she's doing well, that she feels great. She tires easily though, but that's to be expected."

Matthew could see the worry on Tom's face. "I suppose I should have asked how _you're_ doing."

Tom smiled wearily. "I suspect I'm a bit anxious. Sybil and I, we were only married a few months, and then this. We're both young, and neither one of us knows a thing about raising a child."

Matthew nodded thoughtfully, and even though he understood Tom's anxieties, he couldn't help but envying him slightly. If he and Mary were to be expecting a child so earlier in their marriage it would surely help relieve some of the pressure he was feeling to produce an heir.

"Well, Sybil's young," Matthew teased, "but I'm not so sure about you. And as far as being scared goes, I should suspect no one feels completely prepared before they become parents."

"Did Mary ask if you knew about the baby?"

Matthew laughed at his recollection. "After a few moments of stammering about, she eventually came to ask if I had known of it."

"Did you tell her?"

Matthew shook his head, "She would tell on me to Sybil in a heartbeat," he smiled. "No, your secret is safe with me. Our wives don't have to know everything."

Tom smiled gratefully. He had written to Matthew almost instantly after Sybil told him they would be expecting their first child. Sybil had insisted they not tell her sisters, but Tom needed someone to lean on during the months they would be absent. Not having many close friends in Ireland, Tom decided to write to Matthew, and he was glad he had.

"She's not your wife yet," Tom reminded him. "Have you decided on a date?"

"We're waiting until after Mr. Bates is released."

"Are you getting closer?" Tom asked him. "In your last letter you said you thought you might have a lead."

Matthew ran a hand through his hair. He still hated himself for what he had asked Mary to do. "We do have an excellent lead," Matthew told him half-heartedly.

"Well, it doesn't sound very promising," Tom replied, noting Matthew's pain-stricken face.

"I'm afraid I've done something quite stupid," Matthew said confiding in his companion.

Tom nodded quietly, "Well, I'm sure you have," he teased. "But perhaps you should tell me what it is."

. . . . .

When Tom went back to their room, Sybil was asleep on the bed, her body curved into a "c" with her hands cradling her stomach.

Tom smiled at his wife and the way her hands always seemed to rest there. He was glad to see her sleeping. Although Sybil would never admit it, Tom was well aware that the trip to Downton had exhausted her.

He slipped his shoes, jacket, and tie off and crawled into bed, being careful not to wake her. Instinctively, Sybil moved toward him as Tom moved his arm around her.

He could feel the cold of Sybil's feet as they found the warmth of his legs as they so often did. Tom was amazed that someone's feet could be as perpetually cold as Sybil's.

Tom lay in bed with Sybil's head on his chest as he let his hand trace small circles on her back. Tom thought about that day he had driven Sybil to the school where she would train to be a nurse.

He had known his feelings for her long before that day, but it was only on the drive there, with her in the backseat, that he decided he would confess his love to her. She was willing to leave Downton to learn to be a nurse, to serve others. It was the confidence boost he needed. If she was willing to leave for this, then one day, he was sure, she would be willing to leave for him.

"Hmm," Sybil hummed as she reached her hand up to Tom's chest. "I was wondering when you would return."

Tom wrapped his hand around his wife's and held it gently. "Did you have a pleasant rest?" Tom asked.

"Yes," Sybil replied even though she hated to admit it. Tom was the one who had suggested she rest, and Sybil in her stubbornness, insisted she was not tired. At times it drove her mad that Tom seemed to think the only things pregnant women were capable of doing were eating, sleeping, and remaining seated. Though it drove her crazy, she loved him for loving her the ways he did.

"How do you feel?" Tom asked. It was another question that Tom had seemed to consistently ask for the past five months.

"Tom," Sybil said as she looked up at him. "I'm pregnant. I'm not dying."

"I'm aware of that," Tom said as he kissed her hair. "I only want to make sure that you and our daughter are safe."

Sybil smiled and rolled her eyes. "Just how are you so sure that it's a girl?" she asked as she propped herself up on her elbow so she could see him.

"Hmm," Tom hummed. "I have my ways."

Sybil rolled her eyes again and smiled at him. "You don't know it's a girl anymore than I know it's a boy."

"Perhaps not," Tom said as she moved a piece of hair behind her ear. "But I do know that I'm going to love this little baby with everything I am."

"Well," Sybil said. "Then, our child will be the luckiest baby in the world."

"Yes," Tom added. "She will be."

"Yes," Sybil agreed. "He will be."

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Thank you again for reading everyone. In the next chapter I'm hoping to get back to Edith/Antony and Mary/Matthew. Also always, reviews, comments, suggestions are welcomed and appreciated.


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